


Nightmares and Dreamscapes

by GrumpyJenn



Series: Friends Through Time and Space [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Brainwashing, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-30
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:32:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyJenn/pseuds/GrumpyJenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There must be an awful lot about her time with the Silence that River Song does not remember... at least not with her conscious mind. It tends to come out in dreams though...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nightmare

_No, no, you can’t! Stay away from me! Get **away**!_

“No!” River Song shouted as she woke, sitting up. She sat huddled in bed with her arms wrapped around her updrawn knees, shivering, although her room at Luna University wasn’t cold. This was the third night this week she’d awakened, terrified and hoarse with screaming, unable to remember the dream. She shrieked again as there was a quiet knock at the door, and then it opened, revealing a short, curvy, freckled ginger girl in a pale green nightie.

“River? You alright then?”

River nodded, a bit doubtfully, and the girl slipped into the room, quietly closing the door behind her and crossing to River’s bed. She sat on the edge of it and looked into the older woman’s face. “I don’t want to intrude on your privacy, River, but how long has this been going on? I know I’ve heard you at least three nights this week alone, and if you weren’t at the end of the corridor I’ve no doubt the rest of the students would’ve been in here long since.” River shook her head and the girl looked at her with affectionate exasperation. “River. I’m a _psychiatric nursing student_. I can tell when someone I’ve come to care about is scared half to death. Tell me.”

The older woman shook her head again. “I don’t _know_ , Evie, I can’t remember. I just wake up screaming and I can’t _remember_!” She shuddered and rested her forehead on her knees, and then started as the younger woman put a friendly hand on her shoulder.

“River... if a simple pat from someone you know as well as you know me makes you jump, you need more help than I can give you. Maybe you need a doctor.”

River nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps I do...”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The Doctor watched the pair on the monitor. The girl - Evie? - and River clearly had a personal relationship, and he wondered if this girl was the first real friend River had had besides Amy and Rory, who were after all her parents. River looked tired and strained, and Evie soothed her with the combination of bullying and cajolery that in his experience was the mark of a good nurse. At least River was in good hands, even if Sexy wouldn’t bring _him_ to her. There must be some reason for that, but he was rather put out at the old girl’s attitude. When he wanted to see River, she was not taking him to her, and when he wasn’t thinking particularly about River, the old girl would take him to Stormcage, or to wherever River was at the time.

He’d tried not thinking of River, deliberately. It didn’t work.

Because after Berlin, she was on his mind all the time. And _all the time_ was a fairly profound thing for a Time Lord. She was there in the back of his mind, smiling at him and calling him _Sweetie,_ and that _kiss_ , the one at Stormcage, and she’d killed him, yeah, but that hadn’t been her fault and she’d brought him back of her own volition and her hair, so _bouncy_ and her eyes in that lovely greenish shade and... and... and his mind went on thinking of River even while his eyes noticed that Evie had left River’s room (after giving her a fairly lingering kiss goodnight, fifty-second century humans, so cheerfully and innocently sexy always...) and River was settling back to sleep. “Sexy,” he pleaded, “She needs me, you heard her. Please?” He heard the TARDIS grumble in his mind and hastened to placate her, “Yes, yes, of course, you take me where I’m needed, but don’t you think she needs me?” He got a sense of _patience, waiting_ and had to be satisfied with that as he continued to watch River sleep.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

 _No, you can’t! Stay away from me!_   It - the _thing_ \- it reached toward her, and the electricity arcing out of its mitten-like hands came closer and closer to her head. She was very small and she felt even smaller compared to _it_ and it was coming nearer and _no, no, nononononooooo!_

It wasn’t a scream this time, not yet, it was instead a low and frightened moan, and the Doctor pounded on the console of his TARDIS and shouted at his old girl to let him help her, “Please, Old Girl, take me to her, please, please, _please_ , she needs me, she needs _us,_ you and me, _please_!” The TARDIS simply opened her doors and there she was, River, tossing and turning and mumbling in little terrified whispers. The Doctor carefully closed the doors of the invisible time machine and turned toward the bed, his youthful face looking ancient as he neared it, repeating her name gently, “River. River, listen to me. River, it’s just a dream, you’re alright, just a dream, my River, my lovely River Song, Melody P--”

And she sat up with a gasp, shaking like a leaf, eyes open wide and staring at nothing, and he gathered her unresisting form into his arms and sat on the bed, rocking them both and crooning nonsense at her, and finally the tremors eased and she began to cry. “Oh now, sweet River Song, don’t cry, love, I’ve got you... you’re alright now, you’re safe with me...” But she sobbed silently against his chest, and gradually she snuggled trustingly into his arms and let herself be soothed by the sound of his double heartbeat. “There you go, River, you’re alright, safe here with me. You’re okay, okay and safe.” Eventually even the crying subsided and she was asleep again. So the Doctor lay back, nestling her more firmly against his chest, and hoped that his presence would keep the nightmares at bay.


	2. Good Friends

There was no answer when Evie tapped softly on River’s door. She didn’t want to intrude, but she was very worried about the older woman; those were not ordinary nightmares River was experiencing, and Evie hoped to take her to the psychiatric clinic at the University... if River would allow it. Sometimes River was touchy about her privacy and she didn’t really like to talk about herself. Evie bit her lower lip with concern and tried the door. _Well, it’s unlocked_ , she thought, _so she must be okay with me coming in_. She eased the door open quietly in case River was still asleep; a good long nap uninterrupted by nightmares would do the older woman a galaxy of good.

River _was_ still asleep. But curled protectively around her was a long and lean man who looked to be about Evie’s age - mid-twenties - though he was dressed in that retro-academic style favored by some of the older professors. _Fully_ dressed, she noted, and wondered why he was in bed with River while still wearing a tweed jacket, a shirt, braces, jeans, socks, and a bowtie. There was a pair of shoes lined up neatly by the bed and a fedora hung jauntily on one bedpost. He smiled at her and put one finger to his lips to indicate quiet and then beckoned her into the room as he sat up and put the hat on. She closed the door carefully behind her and sat warily on the edge of the bed opposite him, River’s sleeping body between them. “Hello, Evie,” he said in a low tone, “Nice to meet you.”

Her bright blue eyes widened. “How do you know my name?”

“You’re River’s friend. A _good_ friend,” he responded, looking amused as though it should be obvious how he knew her. “She cares about you and therefore so do I.” He smiled at her again and some clinical part of her noticed that the smile did not quite reach his eyes. If she read him right, he was very worried about River - he sort of hovered - and that made him an ally. She relaxed as he continued, “How long has she been having these nightmares, do you know?”

“Weeks now, three or four times a week. That I could hear anyway. Did she have another dream last night after I left? Before you got here?” She didn’t notice that her voice was rising until River stirred and the young man put a finger to his lips again. “Sorry,” she continued in a lower tone, “Anyway, the walls here are pretty thick; I don’t think anyone else heard her because she’s at the end of the hall. But if she didn’t scream... I wouldn’t have heard her either. I didn’t hear _you_ come in. Did she have another last night after I left?” He nodded soberly and she sighed. “Is there anything I can do? Call a doctor maybe? I work in the student clinic...”

“He _is_ a doctor,” River said suddenly from between them, eyes still shut, “He’s _my_ doctor. And he’s also a _very_ old friend of the family, he and his old girl. Hello, Sweetie.” She smiled and opened her eyes, and Evie watched the smile finally reach his eyes as he helped River to a sitting position. “You and Sexy came to help me?” she asked him, and he nodded and kissed her on the forehead. This was clearly not a simple doctor/patient relationship, but River was so close-mouthed that she’d never mentioned she had a special friend, except to assure Evie she was free of disease before their first time together. Evie was a popular and giving lover, but she’d never had _anyone_ look at her the way this man was looking at River. She cleared her throat, and they both finally tore their eyes away from each other to look at her.

“Hello, Doctor...?” she said inquiringly, wondering what his name was, and he grinned at her.

“That’s me, the Doctor.”

“Doctor _Who_?”

“Just the Doctor.”

She looked at him for a long moment, and then at River. “Do you trust him?” she demanded.

“I absolutely trust him,” River said simply.

“He’s not just some madman then?”

“Um... I absolutely trust him.” The man known as the Doctor coughed suddenly and Evie suspected he was stifling a laugh. She decided she liked him, if for no other reason than how he looked at River, as if River was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.

“Right,” Evie said, standing up and rubbing her hands together. “She’s having nightmares, you’re her doctor, I’m a psychiatric nurse and I’m done with my training; all I need is to finish my dissertation and I’ll be fully qualified. How can I help?”

“Well,” the Doctor said slowly, looking flustered and waving his hands around vaguely, “I don’t really think you _can_ , you know, the technique requires a certain... ah... intimacy... that I don’t think you could--”

“Oh, I’m trained in all forms of sexual therapy,” she assured him, “I got top marks in Sex and Therapy classes...” She trailed off as River laid a hand on her arm, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“Darling Evie, you are so sweet. But he’s not talking about sex, he’s...” she looked at the Doctor and got a very slight nod, “he’s talking about a psychic link between us and a... a specific third party, and you don’t have the training. Neither do I as it happens, but our connection is... deeper than that.”

“But you said ‘sexy’ was here with him to help you. Is sexy a trained psychic? And not with sex therapy? I’m confused.” Evie looked from one to the other, perplexed. And River finally began to laugh.

“We’ll just have to give her the York Notes version of our relationship, my love,” River said, turning to the Doctor and capturing one of the hands still fluttering about, then kissing it. “It’s far simpler than trying to talk around it. This _is_ the fifty-second century after all, and Evie’s fairly open-minded even for them.” She waited until he nodded and then continued, “D’you want to take it or shall I? I think she’s going to burst if we don’t explain soon.” She nodded at the younger woman, who was tapping her foot impatiently, hands on hips.

“I’ll do it,” he said, and turned to Evie. “Let me know if I go too fast for you. I do that sometimes.”

“Alright,” she said with some asperity, “I will. And I intend to ask questions.” She looked at him expectantly, making a get-on-with-it gesture with one hand. He smiled faintly and began.

“Right, first off, I’m not human.” He paused, clearly waiting for her to say _you look human_ and then he could say _no, you look Time Lord_ , but she didn’t, and he was a bit disappointed. He loved that bit; it was almost as much fun as _it’s bigger on the inside_. “Okay, so, I’m a Time Lord, and--”

“I thought the Time Lords were a myth!” He suddenly looked ancient to Evie; his face was still young, but his eyes...

“Yes,” the Doctor said a bit hoarsely, “We very nearly are. It’s just me left.” He choked and River put her arms around him consolingly, patting his back. There were tears in her eyes as she looked at Evie.

“And me, sort of,” she said, arms still around the Doctor. “His ship - the TARDIS, also known as ‘Sexy’ or ‘Old Girl’ - she’s a... a living ship, a sentient being in her own right, and she... how shall I put it? She exists in something like eleven different dimensions, where humans exist in only six. Am I going too fast?” Evie gulped a bit, but shook her head. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, and that must have shown on her face, because River said, “It’s alright, Evie, you didn’t do anything wrong.” She released the Doctor and looked him full in the face, then kissed him. “Your turn, Sweetie,” she said, and smiled at him.

He returned the smile and looked at Evie, patting the edge of the bed and inviting her to sit. “So... where were we...? Oh yes, right, so I’m er... quite old, actually, around nine hundred or so, in Earth years.” Evie gulped again, but kept quiet. “And as a rule I travel with human companions to... well, to...”

“To keep you from being too arrogantly Time Lord for your own good,” supplied River, and smirked at him.

“Er, yes. Right. Anyway, I was traveling with this couple - lovely couple, really, the Ponds - and they er... well, how was I to know, they don’t put up a balloon and...”

“What he’s trying to say,” put in River, “is that I was conceived in that ship, in the matrix of an eleventh-dimensional living ship, and therefore I’m, well, part Time Lord. Time Lady. Mostly human, but...” she spread her hands in a shrug as Evie began to laugh.

“ _That_... his archaic embarrassment about normal sex... has convinced me more than anything. You’re really not from around here, are you?” she said to the Doctor, grinning at him. “But I would like to see this ship if I may. Is it in orbit?” She looked expectantly from one to the other and the Doctor shrugged and took a small metal cylinder from an inside pocket of his tweed jacket. He twisted one end of it and it lit up, and when he waved it in the direction of a corner of the room, something appeared there. Evie stared. “It’s... may I touch it?” The Doctor nodded. Evie walked around the bed to the - was it _wooden?_ \- blue box and gingerly touched it with one finger. She looked at the Doctor, laid the palm of her hand flat on the surface of the box, and said, “Okay, this is even more convincing.” Her voice shook and she shook her head as if to clear it. “Right, then, can I see the inside?” The Doctor covered the hand she had on the box with his and for a moment his expression was distant. _Aha!_ the clinical part of Evie’s mind thought, _he’s talking to it!_ Then his face cleared and he held out a hand to each of the women.

“Come on, let’s go see her,” he said, his face boyish again, and led them through the doors.

 _Welcome_ , Evie felt in her mind, along with a killer headache. But she didn’t seem to mind the pain, because this was... this was _amazing_. She looked around her and was somehow unsurprised to see the size of the room she was in, all soft curves and glowing panels and weird little retro knobs and levers. She looked at River across the Doctor’s lanky form. “Is it - _she_ \- is she always like this? This is...” she trailed off breathlessly and just stared around her in wonder some more.

“She didn’t say it,” pouted the Doctor at River, and she smiled at him, drawing him down for a kiss. Evie was vaguely aware of him dropping her hand as he turned toward River, but she was too entranced by this fantastic ship to protest. She wandered around, trailing her fingertips over railings and chairs, being very careful not to touch any of what looked like controls. _She likes me,_ Evie thought, _and that’s... that’s lovely_. She was startled when the Doctor spoke by her left elbow. “No psychic training,” he said, “but your empathy rating must be remarkable. It’s what makes you a good nurse. Most humans can’t understand Sexy at all, even _with_ the headache, we should do a study, you and Rory and Jack probably all have high empathy, and... what?” This last was to River, who had taken his hand.

“Nothing,” she said fondly, and kissed him. Evie wondered if they had any idea how sweet they were together. She suspected not, and resolved to find herself a bedmate or two for tonight, since this pair had inspired her and they obviously had eyes only for each other... at least for now. _Maybe that new man_ , she thought, _the one who calls himself Boe. He looks like he could be a good lover and if not, I can teach him_.

“I know one way I can help,” she said, interrupting another longing look between them, “I can call River in sick, excuse her from classes for a few days, make sure you pair - the three of you - have some privacy to deal with the nightmares.” River shuddered slightly and Evie gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, River, but it’s the only way I can think of to help, since you won’t go for my specialty.” She leered at them both in a friendly and teasing fashion, and was a bit relieved that the Doctor smiled back at her. _Ah!_ she thought, _it’s not lack of interest or actual prudery, he’s just... shy about it._ “So come on,” she continued, “I need to use your holophone.” And she left them standing in the TARDIS.

The Doctor looked down at River. “She’s a good person,” he said, and smiled.

“Everyone I care for is a good person, Doctor,” said River, and kissed him.


	3. ...And Lovers

River Song and the Doctor exited the TARDIS and watched as Evie wrapped up a conversation with a hologram of a man who looked remarkably like a very young Sigmund Freud. “Right,” she was saying, “Thanks, Professor. I’ll tell my friend how helpful you’ve been about this. I know she’ll be grateful. See you.” She snapped off the hologram and turned to face them. “Professor Siggy says he’ll approve me calling you in sick for a few days, River. Anything else I can do? Send in some food, maybe? I _am_ still willing to stay if you need me...” This last was said a bit hesitantly, River thought, as Evie glanced at the door. The Doctor put his tuppence in as usual though, saving River from a potentially awkward moment..

“Ooo,” he said brightly. “D’you have custard? Love a good custard, me. And fish fingers, please, if you’ve any handy. And what about... be right back. Don’t move...” he trailed off, muttering to himself as he ducked into the TARDIS and River smiled at Evie.

“Got a date?” she asked quietly, and smiled more widely at Evie’s nod. “I hope you have a lovely time, Evie. And thanks.” She kissed the younger woman, intending just a light thank-you peck, but by the time the Doctor emerged from the box in the corner of the room, still mumbling, the two women had a full-on snog going.

The Doctor stopped short, looked at the pair speculatively, and shook his head. _Perhaps another time,_ he thought a little regretfully, _I’m not as prudish as she thinks I am. Just... this therapy needs to be only River and me._ He dredged up a grin for their benefit, although he was beginning to feel rather grim now that he had had some thinking time. This was _not_ a good situation that River was in, and it wasn't something he could sonic or satsuma better. He was afraid for her, his lovely River Song, but he couldn’t show it because _she_ wasn’t merely afraid, she was terrified, he’d seen that last night; he must be strong for _her_. And so he grinned at the women kissing in the middle of the room and said cheekily, “While this is very nice to watch, ladies, I think we should get started on the therapy I came for.” The women broke their kiss and turned to look at him, breathing heavily, lips swollen and eyes glazed, and he nearly forgot what he was going to say. “Er... yes, well, right... you said something about fish fingers and custard?”

“Um...” said Evie fuzzily, “Yeah, fish fingers. Custard.” She opened the door to the hallway and left the room, and a moment later, popped her head back in. “Lemon custard? Or vanilla? And um... d’you need anything else?” She glanced at the clock projected onto the ceiling of the room and looked back at River. “That kiss was longer than I thought, Riv. Thanks. Gotta go - I’ve a hot date tonight and I need to get my face on.”

“Evie,” said the Doctor seriously, “You are lovely just as you are.” She blushed.

“Well, thanks to you too, Doc, but I’ve never been with this guy before and I’d like to make a good first impression. _He_ doesn’t need enhancements, y’see, he’s gorgeous. Dark hair and eyes the color of that ship over there and... _wow_. New guy,” she said, “goes by Boe, ‘cause he’s from the Boeshane peninsula on some colony that got wiped out last century, and they brought him here, I mean _now_ , when he escaped... Doc, you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. And here I am, babbling at you when I’ve got to get you some sustenance and get ready for my date. See you!” And she was gone.

“What is it, Sweetie?” asked River as she flipped the lock on the door. “She’s right, you seem... perturbed. Regretting not inviting her to use her specialty on me?” She winked at him.

“What? No, no. Well, not very much, anyway. Another time, maybe.” He waved a hand. “Right now we have to do what I came for, try to... fix the problem with your dreams.” He reached out and tugged gently on one of the loose curls that formed a halo around her face, then grew serious. “River, I don’t _ever_ want to have to see you in the state you were last night again if I can help it... I--”

“Hush, my love,” she interrupted, “I’d rather not _be_ in that state again, thank you. Now,” and she stepped back and brushed her hands together briskly, “What do I need to do?” River’s voice was steady enough, but she looked terribly vulnerable to the Doctor, in the sleep shorts and vest she was still wearing, eyes huge and hair even more rumpled than usual, standing barefoot on the chilly floor of her room. Not at all her usual indomitable self. He made a decision; a few more minutes wouldn’t be a problem, and she’d be more comfortable.

“First off, you need a bath and a change of clothes,” he held up a hand as he sensed her wanting to protest the delay, “It won’t take much time and you’ll feel more in control of yourself. While you do that I’ll convince Sexy to extend her field throughout this room, so you can be in your own comfortable space and still have her with you, all right?” She nodded. “Good,” he said softly, and kissed her gently on the forehead, whispering into her hair, “Let me take care of you this once, hey, River?” And he disappeared into the TARDIS, brandishing his sonic screwdriver.

Twenty minutes later the Doctor emerged, and found that River had done as she had been told, but it looked as though she had become _more_ tense rather than less. He hadn’t thought about that - she was so _young_ in this incarnation, not yet the hell-in-high-heels woman he had come to care for so deeply, and she’d worked herself up into abject terror again. “Right!” he said cheerily, trying to jolly her out of this mood, “You’re still too tense, my River, this won’t work unless you can relax.” She just looked at him, mutely, and he realised that her eyes were full of tears. “Oh now, River, this won’t do,” he said softly, “it won’t do at all. Come here.” He took her gently by the shoulders and settled her onto the small sofa at the end of her bed, then sat down next to her, enfolding her in his arms. They sat there like that for awhile, her face nestled in the curve of his neck, and bit by bit he felt her begin to relax.

When River started to nuzzle at the soft skin of his throat, it took several seconds for his mind to catch up with the reactions she caused in his body. _She can’t want this_ , he thought frantically, _she’s just afraid I’ll leave her alone_. For one endless moment he reveled in the sensation of her lips on his neck, but then he sighed regretfully and shifted away from her touch, looking her in the face. “River... don’t do this.”

Her face went blank, with that automatic half-smile - the one he’d seen in Stormcage the day he ran away from her - the one that meant she was in pain, processing something that hurt her so much she bent all her resources inward. “You don’t want me,” she whispered. “Of course you don’t, I killed you, why would you want...” she trailed off and he cursed himself silently. _Stupid Time Lord_ , he thought viciously, _now she thinks you’ve rejected her entirely. Damn._

“River,” the Doctor said in a low tone, taking both her hands in his, “I wouldn’t leave you alone when you’re afraid. _I never would_.” He paused and brought their joined hands to her face, tilting her chin up so he could look into her eyes, could _make_ her understand. Her green eyes were still full of tears, and that hearts-breaking half-smile was on her face, and he cursed himself bitterly again. He had come so close to really hurting her, his lovely River Song, forgetting how young she was just now, and he _must_ make her understand. He put his arms around her and drew her closer again. “And as for how much I want you,” he murmured into her hair, “You needn’t seduce me to convince me to stay... but if you are absolutely sure you want this...and it’s not just a way to keep me here to help--”

“Oh, shut up,” she interrupted him, just as she had (would) in Stormcage. She didn’t kiss him though; instead she pulled away and brushed his hair back from his face, never taking her eyes from his. “I’ve wanted you like this, _dreamed_ of you like this, as long as I can remember.”

“You can’t remember your dreams.”

“These dreams I can. I _do._.. when I’m lonely.” He hadn’t known River Song could blush, and he suspected that the version of her he knew best had grown out of it. _Too bad, really,_ he thought as he stared at her, because the image of her dreaming of him and _doing_ something about it... _well._.. his breathing began to come faster. And then she _did_ kiss him and she climbed into his lap, where she discovered very... _concrete_ evidence that he did in fact want her. Even as the part of his mind that was always thinking groaned at the inadvertent pun it had made, he stood, her legs wrapped around his waist, and carried her to the bed, where she let go of him and bounced once. She held her arms out to him. “Come to me, my love,” she whispered.

And the Doctor complied. He lay down very carefully beside her, gaze never leaving her face, and took a deep breath to steady himself, resting one hand gently on her stomach. “Show me,” he said, and his voice was hoarse with stifled need, “Show me how you like to be touched, how you touch yourself when you think of me.” He kissed her on the lips, very gently, and she whimpered and reached for him. He pulled back. “No. Show me.”

“But...”

“Please, River. Show me what you like.”

Her hands began to move, one brushing lightly against her mouth, a finger dipping inside. She sucked it, moaning, while her other hand wandered down the soft skin of her throat to brush against the stiffening tip of her breast as it went lower to the hem of her vest. The Doctor licked his lips as he watched her, but his mouth and throat were as dry as his lips. River’s hand slipped under the hem of her vest and dragged it upward until she encountered his hand, still resting on her abdomen. She whimpered again, trying to move past the obstruction. “Please...” she breathed, “touch me...” His hand gentled her questing one, and he slid them both together back under her vest, using them both to pull the fabric up over her breasts.

“Oh my beautiful River,” he whispered, “ _Look at you._ So lovely...” He bent his head to her and licked at her hardened nipple, then took it between his lips and sucked and kissed and nibbled until she was writhing under his mouth, arching into his touch, moaning his name over and over again like a chant. He moved his attentions to her other breast and her hands went into his hair, holding him tightly against her oversensitive skin. He lifted his head to look up at her and she whined in protest at the loss of contact. “No, my River,” he said, “Show me. Where do you want me to touch you next? Show me,” and he bent his head back to her aching breast.

River moaned incoherently, but obeyed. She stroked her own skin with aching slowness from the tip of her other breast down her side and into her shorts. “Ah,” said the Doctor, coming up for air with a satisfied sound, “is that what you want, my bad girl? It’s what I want too, you know, to watch you come apart under my hands and my voice and my tongue, to listen to you moaning and crying out my name. I want that so much, my River. My beautiful River Song. _Now_.” And he sat up and deftly stripped her of her vest and shorts and knickers, and rid himself of everything but boxer briefs in TARDIS blue.

She lay on her back, legs and lips slightly parted, watching the Doctor with huge dark eyes as he undressed them both. He lay down beside her again, head propped up on one hand, and just _looked_ at her, as though he was memorizing her, mapping her in his mind. His hazel eyes were dark as he carefully skimmed one hand from her hip up her body to cup her chin. “Do you trust me, my River?” he asked, voice cracking with need and emotion, and she nodded. The hand slid gently back down to her hip, and then continued lower as he held her gaze. “I want to see your face, River Song, Melody Pond, want to watch you tremble as you come undone for me.” His long and sensitive fingers reached their goal and nestled into the curls there, and she cried out, arching her hips upward. Her eyes fluttered shut. “Oh no, my lovely bad girl, I want to watch you watching me as I make you come. Open your eyes, love, yes, that’s it, watch me as I take you over the edge for the first time...” He stroked her folds, slowly at first and then faster, over and over again, matching the erratic rhythm of her jolting hips, and finally he slipped two fingers inside and _oh! it felt glorious_ , and then she shuddered and collapsed onto the bed, her eyes still on his, but unseeing in the wake of her intense pleasure.

 _Oh bless_ , she thought when her brain began to work again, _how smug he looks. As he should_. She stretched luxuriously and smiled at him where he hovered over her, teasing him. “Well, my love, I can see that I needn’t worry about my needs being met in future,” she purred, and stretched again. The smug grin widened. “But what about you? Surely that need is mutual...” she trailed off, feeling suddenly unsure, but trying hard not to show it. He mustn’t think her any weaker than he probably already did, afraid of a few bad dreams as she was. So she smiled, and tried to look like the confident River Song she thought he knew.

The Doctor’s expression grew serious. “If you’re still willing,” he said almost shyly, “I would really like to, er... continue this activity as long as you like. _Please..._ ” That last whispered word had almost certainly been straight from his hearts, an unintentional plea for River to love him, and suddenly it didn’t matter to River what he thought of her just now... now was for _feeling_ rather than thought. She reached up and tugged gently on his hair, then slid her hand behind his neck and brought him down for a kiss. _Oh,_ she thought, _he’s so sweet, such a strange combination of little boy and wise old man, and extraordinarily sexy with it._ He had been so confident with her, using his best tools - his words - to make the experience amazing for her, but when it came to his own needs he was diffident, even shy. Oh, he was willing and eager, but he let her take the lead in pleasuring him as he had taken it in giving her pleasure.

And so River kissed her Doctor and stroked her hands down his lean body to his narrow hips, where she helped him remove the boxer briefs. “Lie back, Sweetie,” she murmured, “it’s your turn.” He lay back, and she noticed that there were no outward physical differences between human and Time Lord, and then she kissed him again, nibbling at his lips with her own, moaning against his mouth at the feel of him under her hands. He gasped as her lips and her tongue slid tantalizingly from the corner of his mouth up his jaw to one ear, and she settled down to nip at the earlobe as her hands drifted down his torso. Her lips followed her warm hands and he groaned as she flicked at his nipple with her tongue, her hands slipping still lower.

She looked up at him then, sucking on the skin of his chest and meeting his eyes, just before she took the hard length of him into her hand and squeezed gently. His head fell back and his eyes fell shut as she stroked him, running her hands up and down, caressing his flesh faster and faster. And then she sat up and straddled him, teasingly rubbing against him. “Look at me, Time Lord,” she said, voice husky with need, “Watch me.” She sank down on and around him, and he felt his entire body tighten in the endless moment before she began to move. She ground her hips into his, taking him deeper with every movement of her body, and finally, _finally_ they moved together. She was almost sobbing his name with every thrust, and his mind stopped _thinking_ for the first time he could remember, as older and more primal emotions took hold. _So beautiful,_ what was left of his mind said, _so tight and hot and wet and beautiful, so perfectly River, oh, please, now, please NOW!_ And she clamped down hard as she came apart around and above him, and he followed her into the sweet hot darkness that was the climax to their loving.

 

“Doctor?” she murmured into his neck several minutes later, draped limply across his body.

“Hmmm...?” It was a quiet buzz against her ear.

“I think... I think I’m relaxed now.”

“Later...” he murmured, and they slept.

 

 

 

 


	4. Dreamscapes

River cried out in her sleep once that afternoon, but the Doctor settled her more snugly against his chest and she calmed.

He sighed. It might be nice to stay with her like this forever, but he was fairly sure their timey-wimey topsy-turvy lives didn’t-wouldn’t work that way. And face it, even with River - _especially_ with River - it wouldn’t likely be this calm afterglow sweetness very often. And there was also the little fact that unending calm afterglow sweetness would drive them both mad with boredom after a bit, and then they’d go out looking for un-calmness, which had some appeal too... they _were_ very well suited in many ways after all...

“Oh, my River,” he murmured into her hair, reflecting that he loved calling her _my River_ , it was a pet name that was as unique as she was. “What have I ever done to deserve you?”

“You never pass a crying child without stopping to help,” she said, startling him, for he had thought she was still asleep. She tilted her head up to look at his face without removing it from his chest. “You stayed with me while I slept so I wouldn’t be afraid. And you...” her voice faltered for a moment and she ducked her head back down where he could not see her face, and he felt a hot tear splash on his skin, “You loved me and you forgave me even as I killed you in Berlin.”

“River...” he protested, “Oh... come here.” He hooked his hands under her arms and hauled her up his body so he could see her face. Her green eyes were swimming with tears. “Oh, my lovely River Song, don’t cry, not over that. Over and done with, for both of us, yeah?” He grinned at her and wiped the tears with his thumbs, then gasped as she turned her head and sucked one of them into her mouth, sending a jolt of heat straight to his groin. “ _River..._ ”  She sucked and nibbled on his thumb and when she pulled back to attack his other fingers he snatched his hand away, holding it out of her reach with his longer arms. “River,” he laughed, “Now _that_ could kill me! It’s been... years in my personal timeline since someone made love to me, centuries even, not including our own activities of earlier today. Go easy on me, hey?”

“Has not,” River scoffed. “What about Liz the First?”

“How do you know about Liz the First, my River?”

“Training as an archaeologist. Love a history book. If you didn’t want me to know, you should have been a trifle more circumspect than “Special Physician to the Queen,” don’t you think?”

“Not the same thing, River,” the Doctor said, suddenly serious. “That was for _her_ , not for me. This...” he waved his hand to encompass them both. “This is... it’s just different. I...” He trailed off, looking uncomfortable, then switched topics with a speed that made her head spin. “River,” he said, still serious, “We have to talk about the... the dreams.”

She sighed. “Must we?” He nodded. “I have to be asleep and dreaming for you to enter my dream, I expect?” He nodded again. “Then why didn’t you do it just now, before I woke up?”

The Doctor looked absolutely aghast at the thought, and opened and closed his mouth several times before he could say anything. “I... River, I...” He rubbed one hand across his face tiredly, then took her face in his hands. “River, the process is... invasive. I would never do it without your consent, I... not after...” He looked as though he was going to cry.

“Not after what you had to do to Donna Noble?” River asked gently. He nodded miserably, not really wondering how she knew; he was too upset to care. “Oh, Sweetie, I’m so sorry. I know you loved her. Can you tell me without... what’s the word? Spoilers?” He nodded again, and haltingly, choking on his own words, told her about Donna, about how she was the sister of his hearts, his best friend, and how she’d done such a typically Donna thing and taken the Time Vortex into herself but her mind couldn’t hold it, she was only human. He started talking faster, tripping over his own words in the rush to get them out, and he told River about how he’d had to remove the Vortex and all the memories from Donna’s mind, and how she had pleaded with him, _begged_ him not to do it, but he’d had to, truly he had, hadn’t he? It _was_ necessary, wasn’t it, _please,_ River, please tell me it was necessary, to save her life? _Please_...

He was crying in earnest now, great heaving sobs, and.it was all River could do to keep up with him, but he so clearly needed this, needed someone to _understand_ , not just to _care_. So she held him and smoothed her hands over his back and shoulders and wept silently along with him into the curve of his neck. _My poor broken love,_ she thought, _so lonely._ Eventually he calmed and she looked into his tear-stained face and smiled gently at him. “Doctor,” she said softly, trying hard to project the love and trust she felt into her voice, “You have my full and informed consent to enter my mind as you will.” She drew his face down to hers and kissed him gently on the lips.

The Doctor’s hands wandered into her hair as they deepened the kiss, but then he pulled back. “Thank you, my River,” he whispered, “for... for being exactly what I need.”

“Don’t be silly, my love, anyone could hold you while you cry; it doesn’t take a special skill--”

“--it takes _you_ , River, because I wouldn’t be _able_ to cry - not like that - with anyone I trusted less than I trust you.” He wound a curl around his finger and shook his head at her when she tried to protest. “River, you were _forced_ to kill me... but you _chose_ to bring me back. How could I not trust you after that?” He tugged gently on the curl still wrapped around his finger, and River followed it, until her mouth was mere centimetres away, and then he kissed her.

The kisses of earlier that afternoon had been hot and teasing and nearly desperate in intensity, but _this_... this kiss was sweet, and searching, and gently exploratory. River moaned into the Doctor’s mouth as her lips parted under his and the sound very nearly undid him entirely. And then it was all slow caresses and throaty sighs and low whimpers until he slipped inside her and for one aching moment they stopped and held very still. “Ohhhhh....” The breathy sound came from both of them, and he continued by whispering her name into her hair. “Oh, my River... may I touch you?”

The coherent part of his mind reflected that when she was older and more experienced with him, she would have made a bawdy joke of that - something about how he already was touching her _everywhere_ \- but that now, this young, she had fewer pretenses. She knew what he meant, so she only nodded, and murmured. “As you will, my love,” and she felt his mind slip gently into hers as his long and sensitive fingers brushed her temples through her curls. _It tickles,_ she thought, _but oh, it feels lovely. So... tender and gentle and sweet..._

And then he began to move, slowly and gently, and the line between body and mind, between his consciousness and hers, that line blurred as they moved together. He rocked his hips into hers, and she felt his pleasure in her mind along with her own. She clenched tight around him and he felt the sensation as she did. Their bodies and their minds moved as one, slowly building to a peak, and at last they came to rest together, entwined.

“Doctor,” River said quietly, later, from within the protective circle of his arms, “Thank you for showing me that... connection...” Her voice trailed off sleepily, “Love... you...”

And as she dropped into sleep, she heard an echo deep within her mind, of _always and completely, my River Song..._

The Doctor sighed. He didn’t want to do this, but it was needed if River was to conquer the nightmares. And he _did_ have her permission, though he doubted her consent was as informed as she thought it was. He could feel her sleeping mind stirring in the back of his now that they had shared that connection, and he sighed again and settled her into bed, pulling the duvet up to her chin and slowly getting himself dressed in at least his vest and boxer briefs. Then he sat down carefully beside her on the bed and waved the sonic screwdriver in the direction of the TARDIS. “Alright, Sexy Thing,” he murmured softly, “can you help me with the link, protect us in there?” A faintly blue light washed over the room, and he felt agreement in the back of his mind, stronger than the feeling he got from River. But then the Old Girl had practice.

And then the Doctor stretched out alongside River, facing her, and put his fingers to her temples. He kissed her once, gently on the lips, and closed his eyes.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

A featureless white plain is before him, and _that’s more than a little trite,_ he thinks, before he realises there’s a reason things become trite; it’s because they happen so often. He looks around and sees that the plain goes off in all directions, _of course it does,_ and there is no way to tell where in River’s mind he has emerged. He is surprised that this is in her mind at all; even in mental imagery, he’d have expected something less... clinical? Pristine?

A child is crying. It’s a new child, an infant, and it is wailing loudly. The Doctor speaks Baby, but this isn’t words, even in the unformed words that make up Baby... this is just crying. He hates to hear a crying child, and he follows the sound. _As good a thing as any to follow,_ he thinks, and suddenly there is a building in front of him. The building is also white, appears to have grown from the plain in which it sits - there are no seams between the plain and the wall - and its only visible feature is a door. A very large, very black (and ominous and foreboding and grim-looking) door. Twice his own height and as half that wide. No handle, no knocker, and he makes a mental note to work out a way to have a virtual sonic screwdriver if he’s going to do this often. The crying baby is behind the door, or at least the sound of it is, and so he’ll have to go through it.

As this thought occurs, a glowing red button appears in the middle of the door, along with a small brass plaque, bearing the legend PUSH ME in small capital letters. In _English._ Unless the TARDIS’ translation field was functioning here inside River’s mind, that hadn’t occurred to him before, he is more concerned with the Old Girl being along for his (and River’s peace of mind) than for her other capabilities, and... no, must _focus_ , Time Lord, get a grip.

He pushes the button.

The door swings open silently, and the Doctor breathes a little half-laugh; he had expected a haunted-house creak. A sound like a music box starts, a tinkly little tune, but although the sound is only the music, he can hear the lyrics in his head, and they are _not_ friendly - _tick tock goes the clock, he cradled her and rocked her, tick tock goes the clock, ‘til River kills the Doctor -_ and he shudders, but squares his shoulders and steps through the doorway.

It’s pitch dark inside, except for the spotlighted baby in an unpadded stainless steel cradle. The music box tune with the macabre lyrics in his head is still merrily tinkling along, but the box is nowhere in sight. He approaches the baby, who stops crying and looks up at him with big eyes, while she sucks on her two middle fingers. He’s not sure how he knows the baby is a she, maybe it’s the smell, maybe it’s because he senses somehow in his mind that this baby is Melody Pond. He had seen her as a newborn and as a child, but this baby is perhaps eight months old, old enough to remember - at least unconsciously - what is happening to her, and yet he knows it’s Melody.

“Hello, Baby Melody,” he says softly, and cocks his head, listening. “No, it’s cool,” he protests, straightening his bow tie and only then realising that although his body in River’s room is wearing only a vest and boxer briefs, in here he is fully dressed. _That’s good,_ he thinks, and checks the inner pocket of his tweed jacket. No sonic, more’s the pity. The baby makes a frightened noise, and he absentmindedly replies, “No, I’m not the spaceman who will eat you, I’m the Doctor.” The baby starts to cry again, the sound full of fear and pain but without meaning and he looks sharply at her, seeing... _something_... reflecting in her tear-filled eyes, and spins to see the Silent, reaching for the baby with electricity writhing around its hands. Her shrieks grow louder and the Doctor acts, his virtual body taking over and dispatching the Silent with one blow.

Baby Melody immediately calms, and her babbles bring the Doctor out of his half-horrified blood-lust. “Right you are, Melody Pond,” he says, relieved, “this is a dream, or a memory, and I didn’t really...” he shudders, thinking _but if I see one of those threaten you in real life again, my River, there’s no telling what I would do now that I know what they’ve done to you..._ He doesn’t say this aloud; there’s no sense in scaring the baby, who can obviously understand him.

 _Wait,_ he thinks, _what baby?_ Because she has just... vanished between one thought and the next. He sighs as the music box gets louder and louder and now it’s all he can hear and the room goes completely dark, too dark for even a Time Lord’s superior vision, and under the music he hears what sounds like breathing in a space suit. And he can see again, but he’s in the tunnels under the space center on Earth, and there is one stuttering light bulb down the corridor, and he can just barely make out the little girl in the Apollo space suit through the gloom. He can see all the Silence between them, though, dozens, maybe hundreds of them, sleeping like bats hanging from the ceiling, and he watches them as he edges toward the little girl. “Melody?” he whispers, not wanting to alert the Silents, “Melody, are you alright?” _Of course she’s not alright,_ his mind says sardonically, _she’s crying, terrorised by the Silents, and you’re asking her if she’s alright?_ But he hushes the voice in his mind, she needs him, she’s still just a baby and she’s crying and she needs him. “Melody?” He edges closer and she turns a tearstained face up to him.

“Are you going to eat me?” Her voice is a whisper and he shakes his head.

“No, poppet, I won’t hurt you, I’m here to help. I’m the Doctor.”

“She said you’ll hurt me, the Eyepatch Lady, she said the Doctor will hurt me!” Melody makes as if to run away and he grabs her arm in the suit. “Let go of me! Let go! Stay away! Or I have to kill you, she said I have to kill you and I’m not ready!” He’s unwilling to hold her for fear he’ll frighten her even more, or maybe even hurt her, so when she wrenches herself free, he releases her and she runs, amazingly quickly for a small child in a space suit. He watches her go and then the lights go off again and he freezes in places, because who knows what might come after him in the dark of River’s sleeping mind?

It’s dark and it’s silent, the Doctor notes; the music has stopped. And then another sound begins, the sound of young children, girls, giggling and laughing together. Occasionally a young male voice, somewhat petulant and whingey, joins them, but mostly it’s just the girls. He can’t hear the words, just the cadence of voices and squeals of laughter. The male’s voice gets deeper and the girls’ more teasing, and soon he can hear words here and there, and make out the voices. It’s Amy, and Rory, and most of all Mels, River’s incarnation before she became River. He sags into a state of wary relief; Mels is probably the most dangerous of River’s incarnations, but also one he knows fairly well. And then the lights come up and he looks around.

He’s in Leadworth, in Amy’s back garden, and it’s nighttime, but there’s enough light spilling from the windows of her house for him to see clearly. He’s alone in the garden, and he goes slowly toward the house, afraid of what he’ll find there but knowing he has to get on with it. He sees a flicker in one of the windows and looks up; there is someone, standing in shadow and looking out at him. He opens the door to the kitchen, squares his shoulders again, and enters the house.

It looks just as it did the night the Doctor met little Amelia Pond, although there’s more light this time. Amy is there, and Rory, but he doesn’t see Mels and assumes it was she looking through the lace curtains of the upstairs window, of Amy’s room. He plunks down at the table next to Rory, across from Amy, and reflects that this is a strange dream - if River is dreaming it, why isn’t she here? “Because,” Rory says suddenly, “it’s a dream, and she doesn’t have to be. Are you going to eat her? I won’t let you, you know, she’s my daughter and I won’t allow it.” He nods and so does Amy as she takes his hand.

“I love you, Doctor, but I love River - Mels - _Melody_ , my baby Melody - even more, and I won’t let you hurt her,” she says, and it _hurts_ , because he never meant to hurt River or Mels or Melody, he just wanted to understand who she was and he thought Amy _knew_ that. “You let me shoot at her when she was a child, you know, but I didn’t know, it’s not my fault,” Amy continues, and it breaks his hearts, “You should have known, Doctor, but you didn’t stop me, just like you didn’t get to me when she... she melted in my arms there at Demon’s Run, it’s your fault and River’s with your spoilers and your mysterious knowledge,” her accent is thick with anxiety and and her voice with tears now, and yet she keeps hammering at him, and now Rory joins her. “Your fault, yours and River’s, that our baby didn’t stay with us, that they took her, that we didn’t see her grow up. Your fault, yours and hers, hers and yours!”

And suddenly he understands, because they’re speaking in unison, that this is _not_ Amy and Rory, this is River’s guilt and pain and anger, her subconscious mind, blaming herself and him for everything bad that ever happened to her parents. So if he could convince _them_ that it was not his fault... but there he falters, because ultimately, it kind of is. Or _will be_ his fault, because... someone, he can’t remember who... someone wants him _gone,_ and is willing to hurt these lovely people, his _friends_ , to get him. Whoever they are, they’ve taken Amy’s and Rory’s only child, and trained her to be the ultimate assassin, his bespoke psychopath, to get rid of _him_. So he has to admit his guilt, there’s no other way to convince them and therefore River that this isn’t _their_ fault, it’s _his_. And if he can't convince River, then all this is for nothing and she might even be worse off than she was before, trapped in her own mind waking as well as sleeping.

And he can’t have that. He _will_ not have that.

The Doctor holds up his hands placatingly and they stop talking abruptly, which is good because the two of them talking in unison makes him shiver with the unnaturalness of it all. He clears his throat. “Yes, right,” he says, “You’re right, it _is_ my fault, my fault alone that they took your baby from you.” They look at him silently and he wishes that it didn’t hurt him that they don’t immediately jump to his defense. He sighs. “As I understand it, there’s a group, a group of people, and they want me dead. No, strike that, that’s too simple, and I wish I could remember the details, but there’s a... a prophecy, I think, and it says that I need to die.” Out of the corner of his eye he sees someone slip into the room from the corridor, and he knows that it’s Mels. She stands just out of his range of vision and it’s killing him not to look at her and he doesn’t know why or how but he knows that he _must not_ look at her or she’ll have to kill him.

“Please,” he whispers to Amy and Rory and the woman standing unseen behind him. His voice is choked by tears too, and the whisper is agonised. “Please forgive me. I never meant to hurt you or Melody. I promise I never meant--”

Amy screams and Rory is suddenly in his Roman armour, sword in hand, and the Silents are all around them and he remembers, _of course_ he remembers; the Silence has a prophecy, it’s them, they believe they will fall and it will be his fault so they try to preempt the prophecy by brainwashing Melody to kill him. Even as he realises this, he and Rory are acting, decimating the troops of Silents all around them. Rory has his sword, of course, and the Doctor’s dream body is fighting on its own again, and Amy is laying about her with a long kitchen knife and a cast iron frying pan, and all the Silents are gone but three, but Mels... Mels cowers in the corner of the room, the three remaining Silents looming over her, reaching for her with electricity arcing between them, reaching, reaching...

And then all three of them are there, protecting their Melody, and one Silent is decapitated with Rory’s sword, one is brained by Amy’s frying pan ( _god bless the Scottish!_ thinks the Doctor wildly), and the last one...

...the last one is stabbed through the chest by Mels as she snatches Amy’s knife and the Doctor holds the Silent still for her...

...and then all is quiet except for the soft sound of Mels - no, not Mels, _River_ \- the sound of River weeping.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

“And then I woke up,” murmured River Song as she closed the blue book she used as a time traveler’s diary.

When she woke up the Doctor was gone. He had left a note, and she took it out of its place tucked into the back of the diary and unfolded it to read it once again.

 

_I’m sorry, my River, but I can’t stay. If you ever need me - if you ever feel like you’re a child crying in the night - I’ll be there. You know I will. Always and completely yours,_

_The Doctor_

_  
_

River sighed. She knew from little things he’d let slip here and there that there would be many times they’d be together, but she wished those times could be _now_. He must have his reasons though, he always did. And she hadn’t had a nightmare since he’d entered her dream and helped her banish her _own_ demons. She would see him again, and soon, if she really needed him.

 

She looked forward to it.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Jack's First Lover](https://archiveofourown.org/works/441556) by [GrumpyJenn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyJenn/pseuds/GrumpyJenn)




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